Westerlund news
by PunishedShake
Summary: Keeping people alive? Saving the galaxy? Righting wrongs? After a month, living on the streets of the Citadel, Iriqious Pliskin doesn't care about this Universe's inhabitants. On a journey to use his knowledge of the future for fun and profit, can one man report the news? Just how big an advantage is knowing the future? Find out, here, on Westerlund News network.


_**Westerlund News:**_

 ** _Prologue: Crazy enough to be true_**

"I fucking told you!" Shouted the bearded crazy homeless guy she meet on the Citadel not three days before as the two of them ran for cover.

"How the? But... Geth?" Shouted Khalisah al-Jilani, young reporter for Human Holo-Vid news network Westerlund news.

"Less talking! Let's get that camera drone rolling!" shouted The homeless guy, with equal parts fear, joy and excitement. This incredibly scared Khalisah. Somehow, this crazy homeless man had not only known that the Geth, a synthetic species not seen outside the persues veil in over 300 years, but had also dragged her along somehow to make the two of them famous.

She had no idea how it had started, but that was far from her mind as she tapped a few keys on her Omni-Tool and pressed the "Live Recording" Button on her Omni-Tool. Making sure it was sent Priority one to the News Network headquarters several thousand light years away and instantly live streamed to her blog.

She straightened out her air, had the homeless man keep watch for any nearby Geth with a pistol she doubted he knew how to properly use, and started to face the camera.

"Khalisah Bint al-Jilani. Westerlund news. I am here live from Eden Prime to discover what can only be described as something from H.G Wells "War of the worlds"..." She began to say straight to the Camera.

* * *

 ** _Four days Earlier_**

 _ **Citadel- Zakera Ward**_

Khalisah twiddled with her pen. She was, quite frankly, bored. Nothing was happening this week. Short of more hours chasing Ambulances and Police cars, she had very little to report on. There were no leads, no dead leaders, no sports events, no festivals. No Gang shoot-outs, no Aliens prodding into human politics. Hell, most of the decent "human interest Stories" had been already stolen by some Intern fucker that was more then likely having "Career prospect discussions" with the big wigs in the boardroom.

She was desperate for anything. Any deaths, murders, gruesome terrorist attacks. Anything. Any lead...

She looked at her Omni-Tool. Still no calls from some of her... Less Legal sources on information on the Citadel. She was so bored she might even just go ahead and call up the Shadow Broker. See if that omnipresent bastard had anything.

The last thing she expected was a call from a public information terminal. She couldn't even get the caller I.D.

 _Who actually uses public terminals for calls?_ She asked herself, before swiping right and answering the call.

"Khalisah Bint al-Julani. Westerlund news. Who is this?" She asked, so far so confused.

"Thank god. I've been trying to find you for days. I mean, I had no other ideas and I'm down to my last credits. Do you know who hard it is to get 5 credits in this universe? I mean... Fucking hell, I thought..." The voice on the other end rattled off. It was an English RP accent, most likely a human voice. Khalisah was bored of his constant talking, and was getting ready to call the cops on yet another stalker.

"Can I help you?" she asked, annoyance not so much creeping it's way into her voice as charging through the wall shouting "OH YEAH!"

The voice on the other end collected his breath, then got serious.

"How would you like to cover the biggest news story of your life?" Asked the voice on the other end.

Khalisah rolled her eyes. She got calls about this kind of thing once a week. Fluoride in the water, Keepers processing human flesh. Government conspiracies about Space Cuttlefish. The works.

"Really? You're gonna open with that?" She asked.

The voice on the other end laughed.

"Yeah. Sorry. But I am being serious. And I can prove it. I can't tell you the story over the phone. But here's a tidbit. Tonight, or at least in the next few days, Francis Kitt will announce an all Elcor stage play of _Hamlet_ , Claiming that he "Wanted Hamlet to be judged by his deeds, not his emotions"." Said the mysterious Stranger.

Khalisah actually laughed. That sounded incredible, and, from little she knew of Francis Kitt, sounded like the mad Auteur.

"Wow. That sounds legit. And where did you get this information? The extranet?" Asked Khalisah sarcastically.

"Hey, until today I couldn't rub two credits together. Look, if you want to know more, once every other news station reports on this story, meet me in a homeless shelter on Zakera ward. I'll quickly message your Omni-Tool the address." Said the now evidently homeless man.

She sighed. It was more than likely a crazy man. When no announcement happens, she can forget this conversation ever happened.

"Sure, I'll do that." she said unconvincingly. "Well Mr..."

The voice on the other end paused for a few seconds, before responding slowly.

"Call me... Iriqious Pliskin." Said the voice unconvincingly.

"Right. Well Mr Pliskin. You have a nice day doing... I don't know, dumpster diving." Said Khalisah.

"Trust me. Francis Kitt. Elcor Hamlet. You meet me when he announces it. I've got something better when you do." Said the "Mr Pliskin."

"Sure sure." Said Khalisah absent mindedly. She swiped right and hung up on the crazy man.

She looked around the office. Still nothing happening. She had no interviews booked for at least a week. Slow news weeks sucked ass.

She turned back to her terminal.

 _Heh. Elcor Hamlet. Even Francis isn't that crazy..._

* * *

It was the talk of the Extranet. Well, the part of the extranet that actually cared about Theater anyway, rather than "Who'd win a fight, Human Alliance or Turian Hegemony." Or shitposting about Batarians.

She was lying in bed, staring at her Omni-Tool. Francis Kitt, fifteen minutes ago, had announced he was beginning production of an all Elcor cast of Hamlet. Claiming he wanted Hamlet to be judge by "his deeds, not his emotions."

The crazy mother fucker from earlier was right.

She turned off her Omni-Tool had placed both of her hands behind her head. If this man was right about that... Did he have something bigger?

Just who was this Iriqious Pliskin? Some member of Francis Kitt's entourage? A shadow broker agent? Some Theatre obsessed hacker?

Nothing made sense. She read up on the theories on the extranet about what Francis might direct next. Les Miserable set in the 2nd American civil war? Sure. Some one man show about a Turian and Human surviving in the wideness of Shanxi during the first contact war, the parts being played by an Asari? Not the weirdest thing he'd ever done.

Both were more plausible then using Elcor as actors.

Still... One semi accurate guess about a play didn't make you Nostradamus.

She debated meeting with the homeless man. She had the Address saved on her Omni-Tool. Originally as a laugh, but now...

I mean... just who was this guy?

* * *

"You're sleeping in my bed." said the bare faced turian.

"Look, Kax. We both know this is my cot. I've got a knife underneath it. I don't want no trouble." Said The bearded young man in a English accent.

"Give me the cot." Said the Turian deadpanned.

"Fuck off. I ain't letting you piss in my cot too. Go bother Aquaris. He only sleeps for four hours a day anyway, he wouldn't mind." said "Iriqious Pliskin" tiredly. Kax did this almost every night. Iriqious had made the mistake of talking to the turian once and helped him out with mugging someone for money. Now that bastard believed he owned fifty percent of whatever Iriqious owned.

A punch to the head woke Iriqious up. Rubbing his head, he pulled out the knife he hid under his pillow.

"I warned you Kax. Fuck off. I don't want to hurt you, but I need some god-damn sleep." Said Iriqious.

Kax backed off. Even strung out from years of red sand abuse, Kax knew better then to threaten a tired man carrying a knife.

"I'll go talk to Aquaris..." Said Kax, slowly walking back from the grumpy human.

"Yeah you better go do that." Said Iriqious. He lay back into the cot, his knife still clutched in his hand. Looks like he was going to have to stay on watch for another night. He hadn't had a decent night sleep since he came to this homeless shelter. It was arguably safer on the streets. At least there weren't so many drug addicts and crazy people under one roof. Just Gangs and C-Sec to worry about.

Iriqious barely cared anymore. After a month on the Citadel, he finally worked out a plan to get out of this place. Sure, it was deceitful, and he could arguably have used the information to save hundreds of lives. But who'd believe him? He deserved a break after the shitty month he had. Cheap brain surgery. Getting mugged and mugging someone. Sleeping under awnings, keeping watch to stop him from getting stabbed. Evading both the police and gangs. He deserved more then this. His current situation was completely out of his control.

Tomorrow, she'd meet him. His ticket out of this dump. He just knew It.

After all, the things he knew about the future would keep Khalisah bint al-Julani one of the most famous News reporters in history for at least three years.

After all. If she was the first to report on Eden Prime... On Noveria... On the attack on the Citadel. On Shepherd's death and the thousands of other great moments sure to come, she'd enter the history books. And hey, if you've got knowledge of the future, why not use it to profit?

What's the worst that could happen?

* * *

 _ **And that's the taster/Prologue for this SI. I thought "Hey, why not have a unapologetic jerk meet up with one of the underdogs of the Mass effect universe and entirely use the knowledge of the future for fun and profit. No angsty "Saving the doomed to die" bullshit, no stopping the reapers. Ostensibly, "Iriqious Pliskin" is in it for one man and one man only. Himself.**_

 _ **Will things go according to plan? Will he live a comfortable live breaking news stories before they happen and sell information about future events? Or, like the Heisenberg Principle, will he change the outcome merely by observation? Found out, in Westerlund news:**_


End file.
